What Comes After Hope
by Dr. Breifs Cat
Summary: Bulma and Kuririn know, it's not easy to love the unrepentantly evil.


Disclaimer: Me fan. Me no own. Rawr.

**What Comes After Hope**

It was a conversation that Bulma had spent the last year and a half waiting for. It was also one that she just didn't want to have, which was the reason that it took a year and a half before anyone even knew there was anything to be said. For a few days there, she thought the conversation wasn't coming at all. When Goku broke the news of Trunks' paternity, the boys took it really well. Surprised, yes, but they never once acted like she'd somehow betrayed them and for that, Bulma was grateful. She never felt like she was betraying them and as such, she didn't think she'd have been able to have made an argument in her defense that they'd accept. She was a genius, of course, but she wasn't good at dealing with other people's feelings. If she knew how to make that kind of hurt go away, then Yamcha would be happy for her instead of bitter. But that particular gem of wisdom managed to be one of the few things that she didn't know, so she never made it a point to talk about it. All the fighters had been so caught up in their own training that she hadn't even seen most of them for three years, anyway. If only Yamcha and Vegeta cared enough to pay attention to what was going on in her life, then only they would get to know. The others had mouths and telephones. No one was stopping them from giving her a call.

The boys hadn't even wanted to see her one last time before going off to face certain doom! They had no right to feel betrayed about a single thing that she did! No one was about to get away with trying to give Bulma a guilt trip.

Still…it would have been nice if someone was worried about her. Thought that maybe she wasn't making the best decisions. Wanted to, heaven forbid, talk about it.

Whatever. The boys took it well. As far as they were concerned, Vegeta and his grown-up time-traveling half-human son were just part of the gang. That was the important thing. And Bulma and her half-Saiyan baby were totally easy to ignore and not part of anything unless someone suddenly wanted her to make them something _mechanical_, at which point, she had to drop everything _she_ might have been doing to rush to their aid. Nothing new there.

The first time Bulma had gone up to Kami's Lookout, she'd had the distinct impression of being unwanted there, even though she'd been _invited_ and was just trying to do them a _favor_. Next time, she told herself, she wouldn't bother.

Of course, that had been before that Cell creature had attained his Perfect Form and declared that the world had nine days to prepare for his tournament. Things like that tend to make all bets off. Including the one where she swore she'd never do anything for Kuririn again, considering he'd smashed her Emergency Shut Off Switch _on purpose_.

When she realized that Vegeta and Trunks meant to use that weird time room on the Lookout again, she'd decided she'd go up there, too. Moral support, maybe. Or, more likely, now that they were part of "the gang," they would be required to magically forget that she existed and thus, not say good-bye before going out to meet certain death, _again_.

Not that Bulma was bitter or anything.

She just wanted someone who actually understood what was going on to pay attention to her.

So, she was sitting up on Kami's Lookout, waiting for Vegeta to come out of that room, another year older and wearing another torn up battle suit. She'd brought another spare with her, since she didn't want him thinking she came up just to see him. He didn't respect sentimentality, which was a shame, since she could use some of that right about now.

Bulma spotted Kuririn making his way towards her, in a sort of half-hesitant, half-seriously determined stride and she knew from the look on his face that it was time for the conversation. The one she'd been waiting for. She was honestly surprised that it was Kuririn going for it. She figured the worst would come from someone Vegeta had killed.

He stopped right in front of her, struggled for a minute with something to say and finally just sat down on the ground in front of her, with his back facing Bulma.

"How'd you do it?" he asked finally. There was a definite tone of defeat and hopelessness in his voice and suddenly, Bulma didn't think she had any idea what he was talking about anymore.

"Hmm?"

"Forgive him," Kuririn clarified. So she'd been right the first time. Not surprising. Not what she was expecting, either, truth be told.

"Oh. It's pretty simple," Bulma said with a half-shrug. "I haven't."

He turned around, surprised. "But..you and him..and Trunks..I just figured you had to."

"Nah. I mean, I would, but the thing is, I can't."

Kuririn turned around halfway, to better face her. "You would but you can't? That doesn't make any sense."

"I can't _forgive_ Vegeta because he's not _sorry_. If he was, I'd forgive him in a second."

Kuririn furrowed his brow. "But he has to get that the stuff he was doing was wrong." Bulma though his tone was really strange, as though he was just a little too passionate about the morals of someone he had barely ever spoken to.

"But it's not wrong to him. He's not human, remember? He's not even like Goku who knows how to be human. He just is what he is and he came packaged with his own set of values."

Kuririn seemed to think about that for a moment and said, "Yeah, but you can teach him human values, right?"

"He knows what they are and he follows them pretty well in public, but I can't force him to believe in them."

"Still…you'd like it if he decided to adopt our way, right?"

"Well, duh," Bulma bopped Kuririn on his shiny bald head for good measure. "It'd give me a lot less to worry about, that's for sure." Though she was sure she hadn't hurt him at all, Kuririn rubbed his head as thought it had stung anyway. "Everyone's capable of change, it's just a matter of giving them the chance to. And a reason to, I guess. But it's not a bad thing to just love people the way they are, either."

"Part of me—most of me, really—was afraid that it would be a mistake to even try," Kuririn had turned his back towards Bulma again and was resolutely studying his shoes. "But I still wanted to. I just haven't had the guts to do anything since those androids even showed up. Couldn't fight 'em, couldn't turn 'em off, couldn't save 'em from Cell. And now it's too late, anyway."

Though a large part of her was wondering what the hell Kuririn was even talking about, Bulma forced herself to laugh. "With an attitude like that, it is!"

Kuririn turned to look at her glumly, but said nothing. It was too late. Cell had absorbed #18, effectively killing her. He'd spent the whole time since that little peck on the cheek trying to figure out if it was wrong to like her, if he could teach her to be human or if she was just beyond hope.

Now she was dead. Maybe if he lived through this mess with Cell, he'd wish her back. Maybe not. It seemed like such a dumb idea: circumvent one Apocalypse, invite another home for supper. If she was beyond hope, then he just unleashed Trunks' future on the world, after it had been safe. If she wasn't, could he forgive himself for giving up on her?

Probably, Kuririn reasoned, he should have asked Bulma what to do first. She'd definitely had more experience trying to reconcile her affections and her morals. It sounded pretty sketchy to his ears—oh, I think trying to kill my best friend is fine, because as a cyborg, she comes from a different moral perspective—but it was a starting point.

And a hell of a lot better place than all this regret, he'd wager.


End file.
